


Undercover of Darkness

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Established Relationship, Everyone Needs A Hug, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Physical Abuse, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, Unhealthy Relationships, everyone is fucked up ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:09:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22155301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: But all Tweek did is sigh and nod. He forced the ghost of a smile onto his face and attempted to hide his grimace.That was it.He couldn’t do it anymore.How could he be a superhero, when Tweek Tweak couldn’t even save himself?
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Gary Harrison/Stan Marsh, Kenny McCormick & Tweek Tweak, Kenny McCormick/Tweek Tweak
Comments: 12
Kudos: 70





	1. Sweet Irony

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGERING WARNING// domestic abuse; implied/referenced abuse
> 
> -
> 
> The Freedom League consists of:
> 
> Mysterion  
> Wonder Storm  
> Captain Rush (diabetes)  
> Super Dude  
> Gadget (Callgirl)  
> Human Kite  
> Sergeant Shed (toolshed)  
> Containment (tupperware)  
> Flamebird (Red)

Tweek was already having a rough day. 

The brightness of the early dawn was seeping through dark curtains, shedding light to his surroundings. As his bleary gaze settled on the form beside him, he silently wished the curtains had been drawn. 

Next to him was Craig Tucker, his toned arm limply draped over Tweek’s waist while he murmured listlessly in his sleep. His boyfriend for the past 4 years drooled adorably with the occasional twitches, almost reminding Tweek of a puppy. 

Except, if said puppy was responsible for the array of blooming red marks scattered across his body. 

Shrugging off the weak hold on his waist, Tweek made his was to the bathroom. He checked his phone and felt a rush of dread at the digits: _11:37 am_ . That meant, it was a weekend and they were allowed the day off from their ‘League’ activities. Which also meant, _quality time with Craig._

Craig, and his alter-ego (Super Strike), had been playing a fun game recently called “ignore every attempt Tweek makes to break up”. So far, Craig had won every time. A harsh kick to the stomach had been enough to silence it out of Tweek last night. But today, Tweek drew in a sharp breath and begged that he had enough willpower to go through the motions. 

After brushing his teeth aggressively (he tended to do that when lost in thought and accidentally snagged a cut inside his mouth, _ugh_ ), Tweek headed down the hall that led to the apartments decent kitchen. 

The wary man turned on the espresso machine, the soft hum enough to relax his tense shoulders temporarily. He then quickly grabbed two mugs, filled them with his regular fix, and made his way back to bed only to find Craig sitting up, glaring sharp and attentive.

“Hey, honey.” The noriette greeted flatly. Tweek let out a tight smile in return and set their mugs down on the nightstand. 

“Hey.”

The silence that indulged them was growing increasingly hostile, so much that Tweek subconsciously chewed on his already cracked-lower lip.

“Stop that.” Craig snapped, “It’s a nasty habit.” The man, still wrapped in the plush blanket that hid his naked form, leaned forward and pried Tweek’s fingers away forcefully. 

The blond didn’t fight his wave of irritation, nor stop the retort from leaving him.

“This _relationship_ is a nasty habit.”

Tweek immediately gasped after uttering it, his teeth returning to his abused lip as he anxiously stared at Craig’s dumbfounded expression. To his dismay, it was rapidly morphing into rage.

“What? Say it again, you little shit?” 

“F-fu- nothing.”

“That’s what a fucking thought,” Craig snarled, his dark eyebrows furrowed intensely. The taller of the two reached forward and pulled Tweek onto his lap. The bruising force on his hip (not that it wasn’t already decorated with various shades of purple) made Tweek yelp, but he was firmly hushed by Craig’s other hand getting a hold of his chin and forcing it into a brutal hold.

“Let's try to have a nice day today, _okay_ Honey?” It wasn’t a question, judging by the brisk tone. Tweek attempted to nod, but when that seemed futile he only uttered back his compliance. 

Once Craig released the uncomfortable position, both men quickly showered (in _turns_. Tweek feebly stood his ground and reminded the other of last night’s one-sided argument) and dressed in casual attire. 

For Tweek, that was a comfortable, pale blue turtleneck over some ripped jeans and Doc Martens. He didn’t pay much attention to what Craig had. The disgust that was bubbling up his throat was blinding him from letting him intrude his mind. 

After all, Tweek Tweak was not _supposed_ to be in this position. 

He was a _superhero,_ for fucks sake. 

Craig Tucker was Super Strike, South Park’s golden boy and one of the founding members of the Freedom League that protected the chaotic town of South Park.

Tweek was Wonder Storm, labeled-lovable spaz who could kick your ass with a literal snap of his fingers. His outshining quality, though, to the public was apparently _Craig,_ since their alter-egos were supposedly incredibly in love. 

In reality, when the Freedom league first united merely 5 years ago, press was in dire need for their funding to pull through. Since most of the ages of the founding members were hardly around early 20s, depending on one of them to donate their earnings was unrealistic.

Unfortunately, the media began to obsess over “Super Strike x Wonder Storm” after an out of context video of them helping each other during battle was leaked. Before then, the two superheroes were merely acquainted. They kept their distance, but to be honest Tweek was rather wary of Craig. His arrogance had always been an unappealing quality. 

But when Tweek had seen how desperate Mysterion had seemed to keep the group afloat financially, he knew that sacrificing his romance for the sake of much his team leader would be worth it. 

Because Kenny Mccormick was the only genuine part of Tweek’s life. 

And while the whole world fell into the “perfect for each other” facade, Kenny was one of the few that knew that was farthest from the truth. He was the one to pick him up on those nights when Craig ditched him after an argument. He was the one to wrap reassuring arms and murmur apologizes. He was the one that had stood up for Tweek too many times around Craig during their missions, often turning their bickering into violent apprehensions. And yet, Kenny could do anything to stop the garbage fire of a relationship. It had been _his_ suggestion, after all. His own suggestion had brought the two least compatible people together and Kenny had to watch it disheavel while biting back his intervention. 

The entire Freedom League was growing the creeping suspicion that something wasn’t _right,_ but only Mysterion, Toolshed, and maybe Callgirl suspected any form of abuse. 

Too many sheepish grins to dismiss an “unchecked battle causality” had become a meek excuse at this point. Whenever 

Bebe, their medic at Freedom League HQ, questioned him, he didn’t bother offering anything comprehensible. Even Tweek didn’t believe his own bullshit anymore. 

He honestly hated the man. Craig Tucker was the worst possible thing that could’ve happened to him. For months, he’d begged the universe to reconsider having paired them ironically together. Even if they pretended for the media, they’d been tied into a relationship in their civilian lives. Tweek had _thought_ he should give them a chance out of sight of any cameras, but what went from a few sweet, genuine dates escalated into three years of hell. He’d lost count of how many bruises Craig had inflicted onto him. How many protests had been left ignored. Countless tears and screams silenced. His wrists must permanently be an alarming shade of red by now. Because for some fucking reason, Craig absoelutly _loathed_ Tweek. 

Or at least, that’s the only possible explanation. Why else would he be here now? Glaring at him and going on about how they were going to a nice restaraunt and that Tweek better not “fuck it up”. Even though it was Craig’s lack of volume control that usually created a scene.

But all Tweek did is sigh and nod. Press a ghost of a smile onto his face and attempt to hide his grimace. 

That was it.

He couldn’t do it anymore. 

How could he be a superhero, when Tweek Tweak couldn’t even save himself?


	2. Tap Out

The taste of coppery bile never failed to make Tweek retch.

It was one of those things he could never get used to. He’d never been particularly irked by blood itself, but the sensation of it filling his mouth always had him heaving up the scarlet intrusion. 

That’s why he furiously willed himself not to gag as he struggled to lift his head from where it had been slammed on the concrete. 

“Want to say that again?” Coon snarled as soon as Tweek- no- Wonder Tweek was able to meet his gaze. The costumed racoon “hero” was towering over him menacingly, a warning in his raised glove. 

“Fuck off.” Tweek spat, trying not to panic at how slurred his voice sounded. Did he break his nose again? Goddammit. Butters was going to chide at him for using up all his cast. Maybe he’d be able to pay him back for wasting all his supplies..

“Are you fuckin listening to me?!” Coon bellowed, this time Tweek was roughly brought onto his feet and shoved against the brick wall of the alley they had been patrolling, groaning as he slipped out of his thoughts. His head clanked backwards with a brutal _thud_ , but Tweek has too focused on recollecting his surroundings to pay much due to the blooming pain. He had zoned out, _great_. Something was definitely broken if his mind was becoming this fuzzy.

“Mmpf?” Was all he could choke out.

Coon’s claws tightened around his jacket, digging dangerously close to the flesh of his shoulder. “I said your request is fuckin denied, you stupid ass twink,” Even through the racoon-eyed mask that adorned his harsh face, Tweek could still make out the disgust within his leader’s eyes, “If you want to stay in the league, you’re going to have to put up with Stupid Strike’s bullshit. I couldn’t give less of a shit what’s going on between you two, but if you slip even a _little_ in the public eye, I’ll ruin you worse than he ever has. Got it?”

_Oh right._ This is why he was currently phasing out of consciousness. 

He didn’t know why he had thought that begging Freedom League’s leader for permission to end his and Craig’s public relationship was ever going to work. Had Tweek really grown that desperate? 

_Yes._

Anway, he wasn’t surprised by The Coon’s reaction. 

Since the formation of The Freedom League, it had been easy to weed out Coon’s true intentions. At least to Tweek, who had observed the racoon-cloaked hero’s manipulative demeanor. The man used his charm as a weapon to deceive the others. Tweek had been fooled at first, admittedly. 

But over the years, it became apparent that The Coon was only interested in the money they gained through hero-work. He used them as pawns to make millions, rarely even joining them on patrols except if it was for publicity reasons. In fact, Tweek was almost sure that this had been the first time in months The Coon had even left headquarters with them. Overall, The Coon was less of a hero and more of a.. dignified manager?

But that didn’t prevent Tweek from shivering at the man’s threat. 

Something about The Coon had always unsettled him. Tweek had witnessed too many sketchy missions gone undocumted by the clawed hero to muster up the urge to argue. Instead, he meekly nodded.

“Good.” The Coon snorted, his triumphant smirk quickly turning into a scowl again, “And don’t you even fucking _think_ about telling Mysterion about this conversation.”

The last few words hardly registered in Tweek’s brain. He was already letting his eyes slip shut as the weight of defeat settled on him. 

The Coon removed his grip from Tweek’s jacket and ordered him to finish up patrol on his own, not paying mind to how the shorter blond swayed on his feet.

Through the haze of black crowding his vision and the drying blood caking against his mouth and nose, only one haunting thought resonated with him.

He was still going home to Craig after this. 

Nothing had changed. 

_Nothing had changed._

Tweek waited for The Coon’s footsteps to disappear before sinking down onto his knees. 

Only then, he allowed himself to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all, I'm back with more angstttt. I promise Tweek won't suffer too much in the next update!
> 
> oh and speaking of which- I'll be updating regularly from now on, I'm terribly sorry for the wait! 
> 
> There's a few things I'd like to touch up on real quick though. I'm gonna edit the fuck out of first chapter because it's a mess. I couldn't even get through it as I was updating which means there might be some contradictions on this one so watch out. ALSO thank you so much for the comments! I love to see what you guys thinks! it seriously makes my day.
> 
> Cartman's gonna be an asshole in this btw lmao oops


	3. Honey, you lack a sense of self perservation.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is much overdue, but then again I really only planned for this to be a oneshot lol

Butters insisted he warm the bench for a few days due to a mild concussion. 

Tweek guessed it was probably from his head hitting against the concrete. This news came much to Tweek’s distaste, but he understood regardless. It frustrated him, though, that his healing ability was only for others and not himself. 

“You’ve really done it this time, fella. You’re one concussion away from me grounding you to base for a year.” The dainter blonde of the two snorted, and if it wasn’t for the troubled crease of Butters’ eyebrow, Tweek would’ve chalked it up as a lighthearted joke.

“Yeah, I’m.. really sorry, man.” The lightning vigilante sighed, hunching defeatedly as the medic rifled through a stack of examination papers. Butters’ looked up at Tweek’s sudden shift in attitude, offering a quick soothing smile. 

“Not your fault, fella. There’s no need to apologize,” The medic reassured him, grabbing the gauze on the counter and approaching Tweek, “If anything, I’d like to have a word with all these criminals, ugh! I’d have them grounded them from here to Russia!”

Tweek chuckled. He instantly regretted that because his nose flared with a fresh wave of agony at the twitch. 

“Fuck.” 

Butters’ gently began to wrap his nose with nimble fingers, humming some song that distracted Tweek from the pain. 

It warmed his heart to have someone this affectionate in his life. Throughout his upbrining, he'd been starved from anything relativley close to that kind of comfort. Before he was an elemnetalist, Tweek had really just been a kid with overworked parents. They didn't pay him much mind and usually left him at home while tending to their coffee shop. He didn't particularly mind, though. He had decent amount of friends in his primary school to fill that void enough until he slipped into his teens and discovered his powers.

Then, he really had been alone. 

Maybe that's why he fell into Craig's trap so easily, he thought bitterly.

“You’d tell me if there was something else, right? Someone… hurting you? Um.. other than the bad guys, of course!” The medic had finished taping Tweek’s nose, and shifted to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. The way his blue eyes shone with compassion tempted Tweek to open up about everything. He so badly wanted to fess up to the way Craig’s been treating him for years but… 

No.

He decided he couldn’t risk it. 

“Yeah, man. You’re the first person I'd confide in, for sure.” Tweek forced a small smile, a ghost of anything genuine but enough to convince his friend. 

“Alright, fella.,” Butters hummed warmly, “Then you’re all set.” 

Tweek hurried out of the medic wing and stiffened when he saw The Coon and Mysterion at the end of the hallway. 

What the fuck? 

The two seemed at each other’s throats, Mysterion towering over a very furious Coon.

“I swear to fuck I didn’t lay a hand on him!” The racoon vigilante spat. Tweek paled as he speculated the scene. Panic began to rise as he realized there’s a chance they were speaking about his patrol earlier. It alarmed him as to why they were discussing it in the first place. Mysterion had always been protective of the entire team when it came to The Coon, but this felt like his confrontation was premediated. 

“You better be telling me the goddamn truth, you fucking rat! Or I swear...” 

The Coon’s lips curled into a sneer.

“It’s not me you should be worrying about.” 

That seemed to catch the other’s attention. Mysterion scowled but before he could further interrogate the hybrid, Tweek made his way towards the pair.

“Mysterion! I was just looking for you, man.” The costumed hero chirped, etching a crooked grin onto his busted lip. The hooded hero shifted his gaze towards him, the edges of his frown vanishing almost instantly.

“Wonder Storm.. Are you okay?” The typically gruff voice was laced with raw concern that the blonde found endearing. He forced a tight nod while refusing to acknowledge Coon staring him down beside him.

Mysterion managed a hint of a strained smile at the confirmation before turning back to The Coon with a quick “Fuck you, fatass”, and then proceeding to lead Tweek towards the base’s locker rooms.

Here, silence blanketed them as they went through the motions of discarding their bloodied suits from patrol and changing into civilian clothing. The only remaining disguise being their domino masks, of course. But even then, Mysterion’s dirty blonde hair was exposed in the sheer lighting. The color was darker than Tweek’s paler hair, but still not what’d you’d expect from the grim hero. The locks draped onto the nape of his neck and his bangs hung choppily above a slightly crooked, sloped button nose.

Mysterion’s most striking feature, however, was the dust of freckles covering his high cheekbones. They blended with Mysterion’s tan complexion well. Tweek could probably sit and stare at them for hours due to their resemblance to a warm constellation. But he was snapped out of his thoughts by his leader’s prompting question.

“Hey um,” The man cleared his throat and switched to a smoother tone, “Are you alright? I know you already answered that but…” Mysterion ran a scarred hand through his matted locks and shifted his masked gaze down at him with a strange intensity, “I think you’re lying.”

Silence. 

Tweek didn’t know how to respond. 

So he didn’t.

He found that he didn’t have to say anything as he sobbed into Mysterion’s arms.


End file.
